It's Temporary
by kitizl
Summary: Epistolary. Shows Castle's college life, and how he met Kate Beckett. Before...
1. Chapter 1

**19th of March**

Dear Diary.

Is it really necessary to start a diary entry like that? _Dear Diary_? It just sounds so... I don't, cliched?

Anyhow.

Hi.

I guess.

Yeah, maybe that would make more sense. Hi.

Hi Diary! Would make more sense than saying Dear Diary.

Diaries are definitely NOT dear.

Nuh-uh.

Maybe it would make more sense to make this diary, a living person.

A fake, living person.

Anyhow.

One might ask, _Why are you writing this? Have you no better job?_

Well, that sad truth is that, I have recently decided to become a writer, and that would take a hell a lot of writing, so I'd better get used to it.

So I've cheated my mother into thinking I'm _writing _this all down, but in truth, I'm actually typing this.

Kyahahaha.

Okay, that wasn't really very convincing, but what the hell.

**21st March**

Yo.

I spent the whole night yesterday trying to think of various ways in which I can start off each blog post. I'm not able to. So I'll just stick with _Yo. _Deal with it.

So today was pretty much boring. I mean, yes, I've got a brilliant idea for a book, and I'm actually working on it right now. It's just horrifying to see how long it takes to complete one chapter.

ONE CHAPTER.

And then there are books that thirteen million chapters or something.

Anyway, I'm just exaggerating.

I'm slightly losing my mind.

It's 11 in the night.

I'd better finish the rough draft of the next chapter before sleeping.

It's going to be a loooong night.

**30th March**

Hello there.

I almost forgot about this blog, until I remembered why I needed it.

So, yesterday, I had gone to the college magazine editor to get the first chapter of my book published.

His name is George Shaw. I've heard that somewhere.

So, I walked up to him, and gave a group of seven-eight papers... maybe... and he just took it and laughed.

"Richard Rogers."

"Castle. I'd like to be called Castle."

"Castle Rogers?"

"No, Richard Castle."

He had this smug smile in his face.

I knew that this guy could be the guy who could actually change my life. He could be the head start of my career. So I shut up.

He just took the papers, and flew across the pages. _Wow, he's such a fast reader _I think.

I was _wrong._

He flung the papers back on the table, and removed his reading glasses. He wiped them clean on his Tshirt, and took a deep breath.

Hypnotized, I pulled in my breath too.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes?"

"Were you high when you were writing this?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Were you, fucking drunk?"

"No, I mean, why are you asking me this again?"

"Because my younger brother is in rehab for ecstasy, and he can write up better shit than this."

At that moment, I actually, wanted to tilt the table and run off for good.

But I didn't.

Instead, I sat there, for one whole hour, listening to him whining about the state of American Literature today.

And then he impolitely rejected me - include whatever swear word comes to your mind, because I think he used all the words I might have known - and I came rushing home.

Typing calms me down.

I don't know why.

**5th April**

Okay.

My life has grown a whole lot peaceful over the last few days. Maybe it is, because of what happened a few days ago.

Okay, what I've been calling as few days might just be one or two days.

God, time runs soooo slowly when you're angry.

Yeah, so anyway, I wrote a very angry letter to the editor on the 2nd, I think, and I think he got extremely pissed off.

Which is fantastic news.

Because he agreed to publish my chapter.

I was right about him kick starting my career.

Ha. I always am.

**20th April**

That's just disgusting.

It's been a few days since I've posted here, I guess. I think the main reason is because...

Well, I was hospitalized for a few days. Broken fingers and a dislocated elbow.

Why?

Well.

I think I mentioned in my last post that my chapter was being published?

Well it was published. Only, the chapter wasn't mine. And it was porn.

Like me? ME? PORN?

.

.

.

Turns out that the chapter was actually written by George's brother - yes the one who was in rehab - but couldn't risk his identity being blown, so Mr Smartass Dickhead had used my name to post his brother's story.

I'm not exactly sure why he is in rehab. Is it because of the drug addiction, or the porn addiction?

Nobody would ever know.

But, anyway, as soon as I got my copy of the magazine, I swiftly glide through the pages to find my story.

And there it was.

Or wasn't.

Whatever.

The following day, I had walked inside the student council, and sort of got into a fist fight with the editor.

I might have not been thinking straight.

So, I threw my punches badly, and everything was just horrible. I was apologizing to all my action hero gods for my existence.

Eventually, the senior overpowered me, and twisted my elbow and punched my shoulder. Unfortunately, the forces backfired, and my elbow twisted all the way, and so it was dislocated.

Like the ball, was out of it's socket. It was disturbing to look at the XRays.

A bit too disturbing, if I might add.

So my elbow is still in a cast, but my fingers have returned to their normal capacity. Currently, I'm typing up a mail to the Ad Board, explaining my _nonsensical behavior against a student council member _and my _highly inappropriate stories in public media._

Stupid people.

.

But what's actually disgusting, is that email that's been running around our campus for a while.

A dog pooping on a baby.

That's too disgusting.

**1st May**

Happy May Day!

I think.

I'm seeing this really cute girl.

I first saw her in the canteen, and she was, like, right next to me.

.

.

.

.

Okay, I just received a message that the generator was down, meaning the computer would shut down any minute.

I gotta upload this before that.

I'll talk about _her _later.

Ciao.


	2. Chapter 2

**12th May**

Yes, this girl I was talking about.

She's really, really, _really, really _cute.

If there was something called, Italics Italics, then, I would use that to stress on how cute she is.

Maybe I couldn't, maybe I could. Who knows.

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

SEMESTER EXAMS!

I **HATE **SEMESTER EXAMS!

**13th May**

WHO INVENTED EXAMS?! I DEMAND TO KNOW!

**14th May**

YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KILL YOU!

**16th May**

The exam went well today. It was sort of easy.

Sort of.

But anyhow.

Back to this wonderful lady I met.

More like, _saw. _

I know, I know.

I said the exact same thing about Kyra before she left for London.

Stupid she.

And we all know the number of blog posts I made recovering from _that _breakup.

Hold on, let me check.

.

.

.

Yeah, here we are. 412 posts.

It's a miracle this server hasn't blown up already.

So so so so.

Anyway way way way.

This girl I saw.

I think I saw her in the cafeteria today.

She was in the other end of the cafeteria.

She has this very, European look about her. Maybe that's what is so charming about her.

Her cheekbones.

Her lips.

And I am far too intensely shoved into this ginormous pool called love to be sane enough to write some poetry.

Which is sad, because a writer must write whatever he feels like, and I'm unable to.

So for the sake of the fact that I am a writer, let me write a poem.

_She is so pretty._

_I bet her name isn't Betty._

_She makes me feel alive._

_I feel like I'm taking a dive-_

_That would lead me nowhere._

_But what really is a scare,_

_is that _

Yeah, the poem is rotten enough, so I'm not going to finish it anyway.

Maybe I'll see her again tomorrow.

Who knows.

**18th May**

I saw her in the cafeteria again. I think she has a caffeine addiction. I think she drank like, ten to twenty five cups of coffee.

No, you don't believe me?

Pfft, who cares.

So, when she was going for her second helping of a dozen coffees, I quickly jumped into the line.

She gave me a look.

I swear, my heart _melted._

She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

I took a moment to cherish that sound that was being emitted from her mouth to churn and churn and curdle inside my ears.

Bad analogy, but it actually felt a lot like whipped cream in the end.

"Castle. Rick Castle."

She gave an "Aaah..." and said, "I read your story in the magazine."

"...and?" I ask.

"It was really nice. I don't usually read short stories, but I really like how this one went."

I smile.

I thought I looked like an idiot.

"It's just that..." she began, and the line moved forward.

She nudged forward.

"That?", I ask her again.

"It felt like an Edgar Allen Poe book. You know what I mean?"

"The suspense part?"

"Yeah, well. I thought it was an awesome story, but, you know. The writing style. It seemed like Poe's."

"Oh."

"Actually, after I read it, I typed it into the internet and tried to find whether you have copied the story or not."

"Oh."

That was insulting.

But I smiled again. This time, I felt the idiocy flow from my face.

She turned again, and followed the line, and her long hair flowed, _flowed _across.

I felt like nudging forward and catching the fragrance of her hair.

AS I drew closer, she turned back, and said, "Oh, sorry. I've been rude, sorry."

"Nah, never mind. Actually, I would say that was a true critic's feedback. I take no-"

"No, I meant, I never introduced myself."

It was at that moment I actually felt time stop.

She was going to introduce herself.

She was going to introduce.

Herself.

And the significant of this moment cannot, _cannot _be taken lightly at any point of time.

Let me repeat that a few more times.

She was going to introduce herself.

She was going to introduce herself.

She was going to introduce herself.

_She was going to introduce herself. _

_**She was going to introduce herself. **_

_**She was going to introduce herself. **_

Unfortunately that's all the formatting this blog allows me.

Stupid people.

But anyhow.

"What's your name?" I ask, in some slight hope she doesn't find me creepy. "Beckett. Kate Beckett."

And that's all.

She took her coffee, and she walked away.

_But it doesn't really matter because she **talked to me.**_

**22nd May.**

Sorry I haven't been posting as frequently.

I have been doing some writing.

When I re-read my blog, I actually saw that I can be good at killing people.

No, not a psychopathic serial killer.

Though I can be psychopathic.

KYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

**23rd May**

I found her in the cafeteria again. But this time, she approached me.

"Rick, right?"

I smile, and I reply, "Kate, right?"

She gave a wide smile, and she pulled a chair and sat across me.

Not that I'm a hopeless romantic, but she was seriously sitting in slow motion.

"Yeah, so Kate, what's up?"

Note: At this point, I had absolutely no idea how creepy I was.

"Are you following me?"

The smile was lingering on my face for a few seconds, and then it just vanished.

I just said, "Oh."

"Well, are you?"

I cleared my throat, and sort of looked down.

I kept asking my brain _Give me an excuse. GIMME AN EXCUSE._

And a hopeless one came in mind.

"Ask me no questions, and I shall tell you no lies."

She laughed. She removed her scarf, and placed it on the table.

"Would you like a coffee?", she asked me.

I nodded.

Pretty idiotically.

_~in a world of complete fantasy~_

**24th May**

And that was it.

On that day, we exchanged email ids, and we starting chatting a lot over the mail.

And I must say, she is pretty, _awesomely epic._

She has almost the same taste as mine when it comes to books, wine, movies, and TV shows.

Except she likes Nebula Nine. What a waste of a show.

**30th May**

Okay, more writing.

I actually tried writing poetry this time.

It flopped hopelessly.

Now I'm just burying my face on the sad excuse for a pillow.

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!**

**17th June**

Okay, so I've been pretty much engrossed in my writing and I'm not able to actually focus on anything other than that.

I suddenly thought that my spelling went for a toss, so after writing one draft of chapter three of the novel I've been talking about, I actually sent it to Kate.

And she replied the following message.

_It's really awesome. I have goosebumps._

And that's all I needed to go for another long stretch of writing.

Hence this long gap.

Okay, 10 minute break over. Getting back to write.

I've got blisters on me fingers!


End file.
